


How to Play With Your Bat: The Importance of Playtime in Maximizing the Feline / Bat Bond

by goldenrod



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU - Comicverse
Genre: F/M, Humor, Masturbation, Sex Pollen, Sex Toys, Sexual Humour, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-08
Updated: 2011-10-08
Packaged: 2017-10-24 10:09:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/262267
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenrod/pseuds/goldenrod
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Selina has a new toy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Play With Your Bat: The Importance of Playtime in Maximizing the Feline / Bat Bond

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, soooo... this entered my head and wouldn't leave until I got it written down.
> 
> First time writing anything like this -- literally. Never written porn before. Not sure I'm very good at it. But nevertheless, I shall press on.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Selina found the object while idly browsing in a discrete high-class fetish store on Eleventh, while waiting for the customisations to be done on a new suit she'd ordered. The owner believed she ran a dungeon on Ninth and Kane and occasionally threw her a discount on leather catsuits and supplies now and then; and hey, it was better here than the underground supervillain supply outlet in Keystone run by the guy with a swastika tattooed on his face. Besides which, Catwoman was long overdue for an image revamp.

So she was browsing while waiting for the owner to produce her latest order, hands in the pockets of her black leather trenchcoat and idly wondering whether to splurge on a new whip to go with the new ensemble when when a glint of unfamiliar colour caught her eye among the usual black leather and metal goods.

Selina approached it, curious. Turned out, it was a display of various costumes and erotic accessories arranged under a banner proclaiming them to be part of the "JUST-ASS LEAGUE" range of adult entertainment goods, with the names and likenesses changed just enough to avoid possible legal-and-irate-superhero repurcussions. Skimpy knock-off costumes based on the uniforms of Wonder Woman, Power Girl ("for the busty erotic adventuress", the label proudly declared) and Zatanna, among others, with strategic spaces which would, when worn, reveal more of the wearer than the originals had apparently deemed necessary or appropriate -- which was saying a _lot_ , in some cases). L'il Atom mini-vibrators and Elongated Man-styled Lubricant ("Guaranteed to help you stretch into ALL those hard-to-reach places"), and green body paint -- apple-flavoured, apparently -- to enable the fantasies of anyone who apparently wanted the Martian Manhunter to find and teach them a lesson.

Selina smirked, and was just enjoying what she imagined would be the looks on the faces of every single member of the Justice League if and when they found out about all this when she noticed a row of dildos, arranged towards the back. They were silicone, _very_ detailed (the moulds were apparently very accurate, and the designer had presumably enjoyed his or her work) and apparently "100% accurate and modelled off the original members (tee-hee) of the League". Which, unless each of the male heroes of the Justice League happened to have a penis that was the same primary colour as the uniform they usually wore, Selina very much hoped not. They were arranged in a rainbow-like fashion, each a bright primary colour with appropriate trimmings, and a lawyer-friendly version of the appropriate hero's logo on the base; green and black, red with a yellow lightning bolt veins down the side, and brilliant blue with a red streak down the shaft and a bold 'S' logo on the front.

And a black version. Deep, jet black, with no other colour save a bright yellow oval at the base, in the middle of which was a crude rendition of a bat.

Had Selina been involved in the design process, she could have informed the designer straight-off with first-hand knowledge that the colour scheme, at least, was wrong ( _his_ costume was mostly grey, in fact, with a deep blue cape and cowl -- apparently, blue made it easier to blend into the shadows than black). The authenticity of the sculpting, however, was a mystery to her, despite much of the rumour-mongering that went around the criminal underworld and many of the more sensationalist Gotham tabloids alike.

Not that she hadn't wondered.

Many, many times.

Selina told herself when she took one of them up to the counter that she was buying it purely for ironic purposes. She didn't normally make such purchases; she prided herself on having enough looks and charm to easily be able to secure an example of the real thing should she require it, and in any case she didn't normally require or use such toys in her solo efforts. It merely amused her, she told herself; and maybe, on one of the many occasions that the Dark Knight ended up pursuing her across the rooftops of Gotham after yet another lucrative heist that he'd interrupted or ruined she could throw it back in his face. See the expression on his face -- well, the bit of his face she could see under the cowl -- when he learnt that women all over Gotham were even at that very moment doubtlessly pleasuring themselves with a '100% accurate' replica of his dick.

And even so, she reminded herself, she was his enemy (nominally, at least; truth be told, she didn't know where she stood with him most days, but he attempted to arrest her for felony theft more often than not, so it was as good a term as any); it was a defiant example of her undermining his self-righteous, morally-upstanding image, she told herself. Or something. Maybe she'd pass the word on to Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, and a few of the other female members of the super-criminal underclass of Gotham City, so that they could display the same contempt for their nemesis as she was.

It still didn't stop the mild flush that crossed her face and the slightly awkward feeling of being a fifteen-year-old with a crush when the owner of the store -- a matronly woman in early middle-age with a scattering of tattoos on her arms and the kind of pleasant, friendly demeanour of someone who had reached the point where they had seen too many much stranger and / or disturbing insights into the secret lives and fantasies of her customers to ever be judgemental ever again -- merely raised an eyebrow slightly while scanning it through and cheerfully remarked "You know, most girls go for Superman."

(And in fact, Selina would later discover purely by accident that Poison Ivy, at least, happened to own one of the Batman-themed items herself; upon finding herself in Ivy's lair on one of the few occasions when their respective agendas crossed paths, she would idly look around only to notice a familiar black object lying out next to what appeared to be a bed made of vines. Upon realizing that she'd left it out and that Selina had noticed it, Ivy would blush a shade of crimson that a woman with green-tinted skin probably shouldn't be able to reach, the vines would swiftly scramble by themselves to cover it over and Ivy would rapidly change the subject with a twenty-minute rant on the effect of the Japanese practice on banzai on the native flora.)

*****

She put it aside and tried to forget all about it, but it played on Selina's mind through the night; during a particularly boring speech given at a fundraiser for a rare African endangered beetle hosted in the penthouse of a scion of old Gotham money and scientific-industrial research (ka-ching, in other words) which conveniently gave her an opportunity to subtly scope the joint out, she suddenly had an image of Batman, standing like the  solemn and grim statue he normally was, wearing only his cape and cowl and fully erect with his dick covered in silicon as a mould of his genitals was being fashioned, and was unable to contain the smirk that crossed her face or the choking sound of her barely supressing her amusement.

"Something funny?" Her date asked quietly as the other high-society doyens around the table glared disapprovingly at her.

 _Yes, I was just thinking about a dildo I bought based on Batman's penis. So sorry, do go on._ "No, sorry," she replied sheepishly. "Just an in-joke between me and my friends. You probably wouldn't get it, unfortunately."

Bruce Wayne leaned closer. "Well, I wish you could share," he whispered confidentially. "Anything to take my mind off Milton Fairclough talking about dung beetles."

Selina smiled. She liked Bruce, really; he wasn't the smartest of men, but he was funny and sweet and, despite being old money himself, he seemed to find these high-society functions full of self-important blue-bloods hypocritically pretending they cared about the social issues more than the tax breaks they would get just as ludicrous and contemptable as she did. And handsome, too (although she had to say, he was no Batman). It wasn't fair, really, using him as an in to get the layout of the place so she could rip it off later, but at least she was sure no one would suspect him of being involved afterwards; he was already richer than Kroesus and God put together, and could barely tie his own shoelaces, much less pull off a heist.

The night ended early, Bruce making his excuses around about midnight as usual ("Alfred will see you home."). Selina didn't mind much; tempting though it would be to finally get to know Bruce better in a more intimate surrounding  -- he was no Batman, perhaps, but she certainly wouldn't kick him out of her bed just because of that -- she had a heist to plan and a set of blueprints acquired-at-great-expense to compare to her own observations of the place, which would take some explaining. As Selina was leaving, she saw Bruce talking quietly with an attractive redhead, and would have been insulted if she hadn't recognized her as Kathy Kane, who was both (a) Bruce's distant cousin in some kind of wealthy-Gotham-inbreeding fashion she'd never been able to figure out and (b) was out-and-proud and spent much of the time that evening hitting on any of the unattached ladies, including Selina herself at one point (who, though tempted -- not one to turn down a different experience was Selina --  had other pots to fry that night).

The ride home was pleasant, Alfred was charming and pleasant as always, and it wasn't long before she was in her condo, in a classy and secure building in the fashionably expensive part of Gotham (purchased thanks to a series of investments made with funds acquired strategically and arranged in such a sense that any crusading district attorney would have their work cut out to figure out how the money came together). Her cats were milling around her, Isis at their head as always, and she was just about to start looking over the blueprints with a mug of hot chocolate when she happened to look over into her bedroom and saw the dildo, discarded on the bed where she'd abandoned it while getting ready and stashing her new outfit in a place where any cops that got it into their heads to search her apartment would never find.

Selina rolled her eyes at her own ludicrousness, threw it in her underwear drawer and forgot all about it.

*****

The heist at Milton Fairclough's penthouse... didn't go off as smoothly as Selina had planned.

Turned out that Fairclough was secretly going broke, and the jewels she'd broken in to steal had been secretly pawned and replaced with fakes.

Turned out that Fairclough had gambling debts, and owed a lot of money to the wrong people that he now couldn't pay back.

Turned out that these wrong people were using Fairclough and what remained of his business operations as cover for a drug manufacturing and smuggling cartel.

Turned out they were roughing him up when Catwoman broke in, and she had interrupted them.

Turned out the Batman apparently knew all about this and was planning on breaking the operation up that same night.

The result, when the dust settled, was a clusterfuck of a night which had ended up with Fairclough's penthouse on fire, Catwoman ending up empty-handed and being chased halfway across the city and back, shot at by gangsters and cops alike, narrowly avoiding being captured by the Bat and, through a chain of circumstance that was both too convoluted and embarrassing to discuss, exposed to trace amounts of a new drug being developed in one of Fairclough's laboratories.

A drug, apparently, derived from one of Poison Ivy's toxins (illegally, so it turned out, which was just one of the many future problems Milton Fairclough's near-future had in store for him as a result of this entire escapade). Specifically, one of Poison Ivy's toxins that, among other side-effects, increased female sexual potency, arousal, and drive.

As Catwoman soon discovered.

Poison Ivy would be pissed when she found out what was happening to her work (and in fact, she very much _was_ , something _else_ which would contribute greatly to Milton Fairclough's woes before too long). Right now, however, this was the least of Catwoman's concerns.

In fact, she was soon a bit more concerned with not tearing the clothes off the first man or women she came across and fucking them as hard as she could right there and then. And matters weren't helped by the sheer rush of adrenaline she was feeling anyway, and the natural, sensual rush she got from the sheer thrill of watching the Batman at work anyway (those huge muscles rippling under a uniform so clinging to be almost a second skin, every motion of his powerful body emphasized, every motion lithe and athletic and powerful and the tantalizing bulge of his crotch greatly emphasized _oh God stop it focus Selina_ ).

Catwoman in heat. The Joker would be killing himself with laughter right about now. And Selina would probably be killing him with her hands around her throat.

(At least, she hoped she would be. She consciously avoided thinking about that; some things were just too grotesque to be fantasized about.)

Somehow, a rational and not-entirely-consumed-by-sheer-lust part of her mind won out. Selina ended up only vaguely aware of the details, but she somehow finally managed to shake off the last of the cops and the gangsters, out-run the Batman, find one of her safe-houses, change into something that it would be appropriate for Selina to be seen entering her building wearing -- it was a secure building, and she still had enough sense to realize that having Catwoman walk into the lobby instead of Selina Kyle would raise questions that she did _not_ want to spend time answering right now -- gotten a cab, gotten home, walked through the lobby, waited for the somehow impossibly-slow elevator to arrive at the lobby, waited for the _fucking elevator to get to her floor how was it taking so long it was supposed to be a fucking_ express _elevator_ _my fucking **GOD**_ and gotten into her apartment. She had also managed to do so without jumping anyone like, well, a cat in heat (and oh, there really were times she regretted the whole theme she'd chosen for herself).

And now -- finally! -- she was alone and able to take care of business.

The door was barely shut and locked behind her before Selina was shedding clothes. She didn't even turn the lights on, didn't stop moving, just threw off clothing as fast as she could as she made a beeline right for the bedroom. She vaguely registered a few irate protests from her cats as they were hit by various stray items of clothing, and she narrowly avoided stepping on something she vaguely thought might have been Isis as, naked, she flung herself onto her huge, soft, inviting bed. The city lights from the open window fell over her, and it vaguely registered that anyone across the building over her could see her right now.

That didn't stop her.

If _he_ was there, he could see her...

God, she hoped he was. Because she was consumed, consumed of thoughts of taking him inside her, inside her mouth, her pussy, _anywhere_ , God, she just wanted him _inside her now_...)

Her skin was soft, slightly damp with sweat, and even the slightest touch with her fingertips seemed to set off tiny fireworks. Selina idly sucked her finger and trailed it down over her nipple, her breast, her stomach, before finally sending it between her legs. She was wet, engorged, and even the most delicate of touches sent charges right through her, causing her to arch her back. She groaned into her pillow and licked her lips.

Almost without thinking, she reached into her bedside drawer with her free hand, fumbled it open and grasped around until her hands touched upon cool, smooth silicone.

Selina lifted the dildo out of the drawer, considered it for a moment, and quirked an eyebrow. It was big. And thick. _Very_ thick. She didn't seem to have noticed that before, but now it was all she could think about.

It wasn't the real thing. It never would be the real thing. But the real thing wasn't here, and by the look of things, it was close enough to the real thing to be useful to her right now.

She closed her eyes...

 _And the Batman stood before her, powerful and muscular, glaring at her in that way that always sent a thrill through her. He wore the cape and cowl -- in her mind, he_ always _wore the cape and cowl -- but nothing else, and she could see that he was fully erect. But this time it wasn't funny, because she knew with a thrill that he was soon going to be inside her..._

She bit her lip and teased the tip of the dildo down the length of her body, gradually working her way down. With every touch against her skin, the anticipation increased...

_And the Batman picked her up, manfully, and she struggled against him because this was how they always played it, but he was soon pinning her down against the bed, his warm, naked skin against hers, and her fingers were sliding down his firm chest, his flat stomach, until they were curling around the shaft of his cock and guiding it towards her..._

_Slowly, he entered her..._

She sucked in a breath as the dildo slid smoothly into her, her groin twitching automatically against it as she slowly pushed it further into her. Slowly at first, but with gradually increasing speed, she began a rhythm, sliding it in and out, releasing deep, gutteral moans as she fucked herself harder and harder...

 _And he was thrusting into her, powerfully, determinated, with all his strength and speed, and she wrapped her arms around him and dug her fingers into him and pushed herself against him, pushing him deeper inside her, building a rhythm, whispering into his ear with a voice harsh and thick with desire;_ fuck me, fuck me harder...

Harder and harder she pumped the dildo, and she fingered her clit with her free hand, and the pressure was building...

 _And he thrust deeper into her and the pressure was building, and suddenly it wasn't just one fantasy inside her head but all of them, everything she'd imagined they'd do together, every single position they'd take, every single touch and thought and sensation every vision exploding behind her closed eyes, with the only thing they shared in common being him, deep inside her, fucking her, and it felt so good it felt so_ fucking good _..._

Selina came. God _damn_ , she came, and her body shuddered as orgasm after orgasm rippled through her, and she cried out and arched and tensed and spasmed, her eyes fluttering and rolling back, lost to the sensation, until there was nothing left, and she collapsed in a heap on the bed, shattered and exhausted, breathing ragged, her senses tingling and so _alive_...

The first conscious thought Selina had afterwards was a tiny feline nose nuzzling her curiously. She opened her eyes to find herself looking directly into Isis', with the others milling around the bed, her bedroom door pushed open; the cats were curious and Isis, of course, had led the investigation. She smiled, reached over and stroked the side of her hand down Isis' back, producing a happy purr. "Don't worry, baby," she murmured. "Mama's all better now."

Apparently satisfied, Isis purred again, leapt down off the bed, and began playing with the others. Selina stretched and flexed, lifting herself off the damp sheets, more relaxed than she'd been in months. Apparently, drug or not, she had _needed_ that.

Selina was just about to go take a shower when a sudden flash of light from the window caught her eye. She looked out the window to see the Bat-Signal, cutting across the night sky, the image of the Bat cast onto the clouds over Gotham like a summons to God. Not caring who saw her, she leaned into the window, looking out over the rooftops; there was no sign of him. Not, of course, that there would be if he didn't want it to be so.

She cast a glance back over to the bed where the dildo lay, discarded. She looked back out of the window, back at the Bat-Signal, and smirked.

"Not bad," she said. "But next time, I'm trying the real thing."

All better.

Selina took the dildo into the shower with her. Just in case.

*****

FIN

**Author's Note:**

> I actually wrote this before the rebooted _Catwoman_ #1 was released and all the controversy about Catwoman and Batman doing the deed in their costumes at the end flared up, just so you know.
> 
> I won't say much, but I will say this; at least mine was _supposed_ to be porn. :-)


End file.
